


Sore Winner (A Victory Dance By Any Other Name)

by momentinsubtext



Series: A Different Sort Of Finale [2]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2018-02-15 09:14:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2223609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/momentinsubtext/pseuds/momentinsubtext
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Master takes to winning the way he takes to everything else. Badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sore Winner (A Victory Dance By Any Other Name)

**Author's Note:**

> Cross-posted from my Teaspoon account.

There is a Tardis humming around him; he recognizes the hum. He's broken it once before and he can still feel the tiniest bit of not-quite-fixed behind that calm buzzing.  
  
"Doctor?" he croaks, voice rough from disuse, and the Doctor is there, knelt at his side with his head bowed. He grabs the man's hair and yanks him up, drags him halfway onto the bed. "How long?"  
  
"Close to three years."  
  
Something in his voice makes the Master quirk and eyebrow and look at him sideways. "Doctor..."  
  
"Nine hundred seventy three days, thirteen hours, forty six minutes, five seconds," he blurts, and squirms under the intensity of the Master's stare.  
  
"My Empire?"  
  
"I'm sorry," the Doctor whispers.  
  
"I'll just bet you are," the Master mutters, letting go of him. The Doctor slumps against the bed, unmoving. "And Lucy?"  
  
"Dead," he says into the mattress.  
  
"What's wrong with you? Look at me, damn it." The Doctor tilts his head and looks up at him, and the Master flinches. "On second thought... no, wait, _dead?_ " He frowns. "Not that I particularly care about the little ape, but would you like to fill me in a bit?"  
  
"She didn't believe," the Doctor says tonelessly. "She thought I was mad, you know. She was just humouring me, she never thought you'd wake up. Not even for a second."  
  
For about a tenth of a second, the Master is torn between pride and worry at the matter-of-fact way the Doctor delivers the words. He smiles a bit to himself and lets his fingertips brush the Doctor's skin. "How broken _are_ you?"  
  
The Doctor leans into his touch and closes his eyes; the Master watches in fascination, waits for the Doctor to do something more but he doesn't. He yanks his hand away and the Doctor's eyes fly open, a small surprised noise falling from his mouth. The Master pulls a face.  
  
"What?" he asks.  
  
"I've had this dream before," the Doctor says, trying to avert his eyes but unable to do so. His adams apple bobs as he tries to keep his composure. "I can't- it's not fair. Not even for you. I've done everything I can think of, gone out of my way to kill people, topple peaceful empires. Entire worlds that once sang my praises now tremble in fear. Why isn't it enough? What more do you want from me?"  
  
The Master grins, and starts to laugh when the other man finally collapses into tears. It's ten minutes before he gets bored of the sobbing and sighs. "Oh, do shut up."  
  
The Doctor does so so quickly his teeth click together. His head snaps up.  
  
He can't help but giggle a little bit, looking at him, inclines his head. "Come here." The Doctor scrambles forward, onto the bed on his hands and knees and the Master smirks. "You are so _thick_ sometimes. Look at me; living, breathing, having a hell of a good time. Two hearts beating and everything."  
  
"You broke both of mine," the Doctor says, so very softly.  
  
"Oh, for- right. I'm going to do something nice for you, but only because I'm bored and think it will be funny. No one _ever_ finds out, and we never speak of it again. Got it?"  
  
"Yes, Master."  
  
He purrs, leans back onto the cushions. "Good. Put your hands on my chest. Oh, now, don't _even_ give me that look. It's hardly as if it will be the first time." He puts his hands behind his head. "Go on, then. Feel my heartsbeat, Doctor. _Believe._ "  
  
Hesitantly, the Doctor leans forward and lays his hands over the Master's hearts, feels them beating through the fabric of his suit. A shiver runs though him, does not go unnoticed by the Master.  
  
"Oh," he breathes, staring at him with something approaching awe. "Oh. You're real. You're _awake_ and _real_."  
  
"I really am," the Master says, and the next second he has the Doctor flat on his back, his full weight pressing down on the other man. The Doctor looks up at him, surprised, but he doesn't struggle, not at all. "Now then, let's see what's changed while I was... away, shall we? Aside from the obvious." He touches the Doctor's temples with his fingers, touches his mind with his mind. The Doctor gasps softly and goes even more still beneath him, all the passageways in his brain opening up one by one.  
  
He nearly falls right into the Doctor's mind, but he's smarter than that. And the Doctor hasn't fought him yet, not once, not on anything at all. Then he sees the things the Doctor has done, how very far he's fallen; there's next to nothing left of the man he was.  
  
"You-" He breaks off with a laugh. "You went properly _mad_ , Doctor. Oh, that's just brilliant."  
  
"You won."  
  
"Of course I won," he says dismissively, moves to sit up.  
  
"No!" the Doctor protests desperately, clapping his hands over the Master's. "Don't, please. I can't- please. It's so lonely, don't leave me, please, you can't- I just- just, I don't think I could stand it if you went away again, not again-"  
  
"Stop," he says, testing. The Doctor stops, nearly choking on his own tongue. "God, you're pathetic." He shakes the Doctor's hands off and sits up. The Doctor makes a small, helpless noise, like he can't quite stop the sound from escaping, and the Master smirks down at him. "Oh, I can have fun with this." He claps his hands and bounces on the Doctor's hips. "Go on back to the begging then. I love that bit."  
  
"It hurts now, Master," the Doctor says, staring up at him. "It _hurts_."  
  
"Don't be daft."  
  
"It _does_. My head is so... so empty without you. Empty and lonely and dark and please, _please_ don't leave me alone in here, please, don't. I need you. You saw, you must have seen how much I need you." He grabs for the Master's jacket and the Master lets him, fascinated. "I- I can't be this empty anymore. I _can't_." His voice breaks and he tries but can no longer form words; he collapses back to the bed miserably.  
  
"Did I say you could stop?" he asks sharply, and even though he's expecting it, he's still completely enthralled by the desperate panic that contorts the Doctor's features. "What did you think was going to happen here, Doctor? I was going to wake up and you were going to _stop_ suffering?" He stands up and makes for the door. "I didn't think you were _that_ far gone. Stay."  
  
  
  
It's hours before the Master returns and the Doctor hasn't moved from the bed. Oh, he's moved to face the door, but besides that he's exactly the way the Master left him.  
  
The Master leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms, watches the other Time Lord squirm. He can see how badly the Doctor wants to come to him; he's practically crawling out of his skin. He smirks, let's his eyes rake over the Doctor's body. "You suffer so prettily, Doctor. I always knew you would." The Doctor keens softly, twitches. "Speak."  
  
"Master," the Doctor gasps. "Master, Master, Master. I thought- you left, you went away, I couldn't feel you, can't and it _hurts_." He clutches at his hair. "Please come back, Master, come back. I can't- please, I thought you might not come back and I've already done this, already, and I can't-can't-can't make it stop, Master, please, Master, make it stop, make me _stop_ , please-"  
  
The Master raises an eyebrow. "Make you stop what?"  
  
"I don't know," he whispers. "Don't know, everything, anything, make me stop, please-"  
  
"No." He steps forward and picks him up by the throat. The Doctor grabs his wrist and for just a second the Master thinks he's going to fight but he doesn't. He just holds on. "I could kill you right now, Doctor. Is that what you want?"  
  
"I don't- I don't think so. Maybe. Maybe. Would it be enough?"  
  
"Enough for what?"  
  
"For you." The Master lets him go but the Doctor holds on, presses his cheek against the Master's fingers.  
  
The Master pulls his hand away, takes a step backwards involuntarily. He has the insane urge to run in the opposite direction. "You know, I dimly recall a time when you were actually good at this communication thing," he murmurs. "What is it you want?"  
  
"You," the Doctor says, voice clear and sane for the first time. "I want you, Master."  
  
The Master blinks. "Well, _that's_ new."  
  
"It's not," the Doctor says quickly, curls around himself. "Never new, never knew. Even when Gallifrey shone in the heavens, but I was a different man then, was so many different men, and they couldn't- but I always wanted you."  
  
"Don't lie to me," he snaps.  
  
The Doctor whimpers. "I'm not. I couldn't."  
  
He thinks that might be true.  
  
"Please."  
  
"Come here, then," he sigh. The Doctor nearly trips over himself to reach the Master, stays knelt at his feet. The Master unbuckles his belt.  
  
  
  
"Doctor, tell me how you did this." He gestures at the wall where Jack is chained, silent and broken. "I tried an entire year, but..."  
  
"Well, he wasn't in love with you." The Doctor giggles. "You have to have the heart to get at the soul."  
  
"And here you are." He smirks at Jack, taps the drums on the back of the Doctor's neck. "Wonder what that means."  
  
"You know what it means," the Doctor says softly.  
  
"Yes," the Master purrs. "But I do so like to hear you say it."  
  
"I love you."  
  
"Mm, music to my ears." His fingers curl around the base of the Doctor's neck; he yanks the man into a rough kiss and pushes him away.  
  
The Doctor stumbles and falls to the ground, turns his head to stare up at the Master in open adoration. "Master..."  
  
"Stop that." The Doctor looks confused. "Stop... looking at me like _that_. It's disconcerting. Stop it."  
  
The Doctor looks away, doesn't look at him again for days.  
  
  
  
"What's this?" the Master asks, lifting the Doctor's limp hand idly and turning it over.  
  
"Oh, that," the Doctor says, looking at the etchings sadly. "Fading, now..."  
  
"Sloppy," the Master says. "Who did it?"  
  
"I did, early on. Before I collected Lucy, even. Do you- I mean, is it-"  
  
"It's beautiful," he says, then looks surprised at himself. "And a bit twisted. I'm almost impressed." He traces the writing up the Doctor's arm, over the pulsepoint on his wrist, and touches the Gallifreyan lettering. "Your penmanship is still crap, though."  
  
"Sorry," the Doctor mumbles.  
  
"Kind of a dead language now, anyway." He lets go of the Doctor's hand. "Still. From now on, I'm the only one who gets to mark you."  
  
The Doctor shudders against his side, stares up at him with wide eyes. "Will you?"  
  
"Not if you act so eager. Takes all the fun out of it." The Doctor whimpers. "Or you could try begging for it. I might even indulge you. Maybe."  
  
  
  
"Would you give me your remaining regenerations?" he asks, genuinely curious.  
  
The Doctor flushes and looks away, shaking his head. "I don't know how."  
  
" _That's_ your objection?"  
  
"I'm sorry. I've always been rubbish at regeneration."  
  
The Master watches him for a second more. "Nevermind. Would you wear this?" He dangles a collar over the edge of the bed.  
  
The Doctor sits up and looks at it, touches it lightly with the tips of his fingers. "Oh," he says softly. The Master raises his eyebrows and he tilts his head, baring his neck.  
  
"Not even going to ask if it'll hurt?" he asks, snapping the collar on tightly.  
  
The Doctor gives him a look, one that's almost reminiscent of the old Doctor, and one of his hearts skips a beat. He ignores it, tightens the collar another notch. The Doctor's adams apple bobs and he leans back.  
  
"Look at you," the Master murmurs, looking him over. "I really could do anything I wanted to you, couldn't I?"  
  
" _Please,_ " the Doctor says, as if the word has been dragged out of him.  
  
"I should be content with this," he mutters to himself. He hooks a leash to the Doctor's collar and loops it around the bedpost. "Go to sleep, Doctor."  
  
  
  
"This isn't working," he says angrily, dragging the Doctor around the console room. "Why aren't I happy" The Doctor doesn't answer, so he tugs the leash sharply and makes the other man stumble. He spins around and shoves the Doctor against the wall. The Doctor blinks at him passively. "Why do I feel _pity_ for you?"  
  
"Master-"  
  
" _Don't._ " He shakes the Doctor until he starts to whimper, then lets him go in disgust. "I should get _such_ a thrill from that sound."  
  
"I'm sorry," the Doctor says miserably.  
  
"I believe you. God, how sad is _that?_ "  
  
  
  
"Give me the Earth." He claps his hands together. "Imagine it: the Doctor, Earth great protector, conquering her in my name. Give me that."  
  
"It's yours," the Doctor says. "It was one of the first. Lucy though it would be the perfect gift, but it didn't wake you up. I'd forgotten..."  
  
"Show me."  
  
The screen on the console switches on, it's telemetry is immediately replaced by images of the Doctor, younger but no more sane. He's not quite his old self, his eyes are sunken and mostly blank, but he still has that old spark. That confidence. The arrogance of a Time Lord, so sorely lacking in the Doctor he has now.  
  
He looked away from the screen at the hollow body he's been keeping and he _knows_. Knows why this has never felt like a victory.  
  
"What _happened_ to you?" he asks. "The Doctor I knew was a pompous arse, but he was _so_ strong. So brilliant, even. He was almost my equal. And you, what are you? You're useless and empty and _not him_. You're not the Doctor. I want the Doctor and you're not him!"  
  
"No," the Doctor says into the Master's shocked silence. "I suppose I'm not, at that. But you don't want him. He'd only knock you down and take all your pretty toys away."  
  
"I don't care!" he shouts, and is horrified to find that he really doesn't. The Doctor can have it all if that will make this falling apart inside stop. "What is this?" he whispers. "It's not madness, I've done madness. I've been mad for years and this isn't- _What have you done to me?_ " He grabs the Doctor's jacket as if he's going to shake the man but he doesn't, a second later his face crumbles and he collapses against the Doctor's chest. "What have you _done?_ "  
  
"I told you once," the Doctor says, holding him. "The key to the soul is the heart. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He murmurs nonsense and apologies until the Master stops shaking, doesn't let him go even then. "And we are _so_ equals."  
  
The Master is startled into laughter. "You-"  
  
"Me. Thing is, Master, we might be equals, but I'm still cleverer than you. And I love you. I really, _really_ do _love_ you. But you could never break me half as much as I've already broken myself."  
  
"So," the Master says shakily after a long moment, unable or unwilling to remove himself from the Doctor's embrace. "You won after all."  
  
"No. I don't think anyone did." He considers, stroking the Master's hair softly. "Which is probably for the best, come to think of it."  
  
  
  
The Doctor cuts Jack down the next day, holds him a cries and apologizes over and over. Jack is unresponsive and eventually he give up and just leads Jack to the console room, pops open the wiring.  
  
"Paradox machine," he explains quietly. "But mine's better integrated than his was. It's harder to detect. It doesn't hurt her. And it can be shut off so easily."  
  
"No," Jack says.  
  
The Doctor blinks. "I can put it all back, Jack. The entire universe, as if I were never there. Well, as if I were never there _evil_ , anyway. The Master is harmless now, not a threat to anyone. We'll be all right here, the last of the Time Lords. Maybe we'll even visit you someday. You just step out that door, out of the eye of the storm and-"  
  
" _No,_ " Jack says forcefully. "I said _no._ Not 'I don't understand'. _No._ "  
  
"But-"  
  
"This was _wrong_ , Doctor. All of this, the things you've done. You can't just flip a switch and- The universe should forget. But you shouldn't."  
  
"Jack-"  
  
"I'm _not_ walking out that door, and so help me if you put another bullet in my brain-"  
  
"I can't," the Doctor says, meeting Jack's eyes. He flinches, looks away.  
  
Jack nods. "That's a start."


End file.
